


Interludes - Part 2

by witchway



Series: Xander On The Menu [5]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, First Times, Handcuffs, Light Bondage, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-18
Packaged: 2021-03-26 17:41:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30109644
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchway/pseuds/witchway
Summary: Now that you have your Vampire, Xander, what are you going to do with him?
Relationships: Spander, Spike/Xander Harris, Xander Harris/Spike
Series: Xander On The Menu [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2151750
Kudos: 2





	1. Answer:  Ask Him About The Handcuffs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skargasm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skargasm/gifts).



> This is important: let me set the scene: 
> 
> Buffy the Vampire Slayer is a show on The WB. 
> 
> It is in season 5. This will be the last season of Buffy. At the end of this season, Buffy will die, and this popular show on this Network will be over.
> 
> That is where we are now.

Xander arrived at the crypt door rehearsing his requests in his mind. Saying them over and over, screwing up his courage to ask the Vampire to do specific things to him (or to stay still so XANDER could do specific things to HIM) required a lot of forethought, a lot of rehearsing.  
  
And, of course, if Xander spent enough time *thinking* the lines over and over again, maybe Spike would catch onto his thoughts and he wouldn’t have to say anything at all!  
  
Then again, voicing his desires out loud felt *good.* It felt manly, empowering.  
  
And it turned his Vampire on like nobody’s business.  
  
So Xander was silently trying out different wordings and practicing his request when he realized he was standing in the crypt, and the crypt was empty.  
  
“Fuck.”  
  
That he said out loud.  
  
“You’ll have to come down here for that,” came a voice from below, and Xander smiled, because he knew that voice was smiling.  
  
“Come up here,” he requested, noting the darkness below, where not a single candle was lit.  
  
“Open your present first.” Xander saw a wrapped box sitting in the dumpster-diver chair, and he opened it excitedly. “Vitamin water?” he said a minute later, not as excited.  
  
“Have a few, and come on down,” the suggestive voice suggested.  
  
“Light the candles so I don’t break my neck,” Xander complained, taking a few swigs of something he could definitely live without, feeling a little insulted. Vitamin water? Was this suggesting his blood was weak, or that he was dehydrated??  
  
“You know the way down.” The silky voice was seductive, sexual, and Xander’s disappointment over his gift was forgotten. The Vampire downstairs seemed to have something very… well….. naughty on his mind, and Xander found his whole body was eager to find out what it was.  
  
But descending into the lower part of the crypt in pitch darkness was no easy feat. For one thing, it was impossible to do with any grace. Xander wanted to stalk his prey like a cat, stride up to him manfully, seize him and throw him onto the bed. Hold him down firmly and tower above him and demand….  
  
…..well, Xander’s demands might not sound too manly, in fact, really, they would just reveal how naïve and inexperienced he really was. Ok, so maybe the “thrown-him-on-the-bed” fantasy and the “dare-to-ask-for-it-out-loud” fantasy didn’t belong together.  
  
This was his train of thought when, standing in pitch blackness, Spike seized him, whirled him around and threw him into the darkness.  
  
Xander cried out (ok, he screamed like a girl) and landing onto the familiar bed didn’t help his panicking heart, nor silence that one lone logical part of his brain shouting “TOLD YOU SO! EVIL VAMPIRE! GOING TO EAT YOU!” over and over again. Even when a shirtless Spike pounced on him and he realized *he* was on the receiving end of the “stride-up-to-seize-hold-down-make-demands fantasy”, even then he struggled to catch his breath.  
  
“FUCK!” he said, when he could speak. “You gave me a fucking heart attack!”  
  
Even in the total darkness, Xander could tell Spike wore a shit-eating grin. “And now your going to taste _good_."  
  
And the feeding began.  
  
Xander shucked his shirt and toed off his shoes and socks while Spike concentrated on the mark right above Xander’s boxers, but couldn’t get to his jeans to remove them, so while he waited for Spike to finish he satisfied himself with leaning forward and stroking, kneading, even clawing Spike’s muscular back and shoulders. He tried to reach all the way into Spike’s pockets in hope to find the silver lighter, until he realized Spike was already down to his boxers, and thus all hope of light was gone. He cursed the darkness ….. he was a man in desperate need of a candle.  
  
“No fair, you can see and I can’t,” he moaned, stroking one side of the face he saw every time he closed his eyes; all angles, all wickedness and attitude, all promises of pleasure. But Spike was too busy to answer.  
  
Finally the feeding was finished and, panting, he moved to catch up Xander in his arms, holding his close, skin to skin, navel to navel, his entire body covering his lover’s body, lifting him up and moving him to the head of the bed. Xander took this as an amorous, even emotional embrace until….  
  
.....until he found one wrist in a handcuff, and the handcuff, apparently, being laced through the headboard. “Wait…….what……WAIT!” was the best he could do.  
  
“Trust me?” Spike asked, and in the darkness Xander could hear the grin.  
  
“Was that a trick question?” Xander squeaked. The only answer was a long, cool finger inserted into his mouth. Xander turned toward the hand and began sucking on the bleeding digit with a will, in hopes somehow the Vampire’s blood would give him the ability to see in the dark. As always, he felt a surge of power coursing through his bloodstream and vibrating in his bones, but when he opened his eyes he still saw darkness.  
  
“What are you going to do to me?” he asked, he dry mouth trying to form around the words from his dreams.  
  
“Anything I _want_ to love, isn’t that the point?”  
  
“I do NOT approve,” he lied, his lip quivering. He jerked at the handcuffs in a manly fashion. “You’re sitting on top of me and you’re practically naked and I can’t see you and I can’t even touch you and *what* am I laying on??” The Vampire gave a low chuckle, but didn’t explain the soft, possibly wet things that seemed to cover the bed, feeling so cool against his skin.  
  
“Bollocks, I can see _you_ just fine.” Spike teased, stroking Xander’s face.  
  
“Hello? Vampire?”  
  
“Oh, OH, you mean………..you can’t see _this_?” There was a movement and a sound that might have been sucking…….”Or this……ahhh” Now his body was grinding against Xander’s, but his hands were strangely lacking, and what WAS he doing up there?!?”  
  
“Did I mention how much I **don’t** like you?”  
  
“Oh, wait, then you probably can’t see this….”  
  
Xander grinned suddenly, but Spike, (who had bent over double and was attempting to bite his own thigh,) didn’t see it. He sat up just in time to feel Xander’s legs move, then suddenly found himself forced up and into the boy’s chest when Xander used his knees to move the Vampire towards him, folding him up in his own body. Spike fought (sort of) to untangle himself and avoid Xander’s mouth, which was reaching forward blindly to lick or bite any body part he came in contact with. Finally he was free of the boy’s body.  
  
“I, Alexander Harris,” Alexander said breathlessly, “resident of Sunnydale, California do NOT AGREE to this.”  
  
“Oh, pouty lip….” Spike started, but Xander was adamant. “I can’t SEE you and I can’t TOUCH you, so what’s the point?”  
  
There was a movement and a click, and a single candle right next to the bed was lit, and then a beautifully sculpted ivory body climbed menacingly on top of him, now hovering above him, and suddenly his bravado before the Vampire vanished, because now there were wicked eyes holding him captive and making his knees weak.  
  
Spike was _looking_ at him. Had anyone ever really _looked_ at him before?  
  
With a moan, he turned his head and closed his eyes.  
  
“I thought you wanted to _see_ " Spike whispered in his ear, then proceeded to kiss, lick and bite his way his way, first to Xander’s left nipple, then his right. As Xander writhed beneath his hands Spike made his way patiently and oh, so slowly down.  
  
“Spi…aaaaah” Xander’s attempts at communication only made Spike chuckle. Soon he came to rest on the boy’s navel, favoring it with tongue, lips and passionate kisses, his hands firmly holding onto rotating hips, maddeningly avoiding all contact with Xander’s aching erection.  
  
“Ah, the Big Bad,” the boy finally managed, with a groan of frustration as he failed to touch Spike’s face with is cock no matter how many times he tried. “He has me chained to the bed in his crypt and all he wants to do is forcefully KISS my bellybuttAHHH SORRY SORRY SORRY” he pleaded as the Vampire tortured him with several bites along the most ticklish parts of his ribcage. The Vampire ended the punishment quickly, but only to strip him clean of his jeans. Now his tormentor stopped and stood, admiring, and Xander’s eyes were once again screwed shut.  
  
He heard a low chuckle, then felt his boxers slowly, but surely, being pulled down and down and down, freeing his aching erection, leaving him exposed in the (not dark enough!) darkness. He was completely and utterly naked and helpless and suddenly realizing why he had been told “be careful what you wish for.” He shivered, and didn’t open his eyes again until the Vampire had covered his nakedness with his own long body.  
  
Xander opened his mouth for a kiss, but got none, so he lay his head to the side, exposing his neck, but it was left untouched. He opened his eyes, waiting, panting, in the silence.  
  
“Are these roses?” he asked, suddenly realizing what the cool petals were, covering the bed.  
  
“Special for _you,_ love,” his lover whispered against his cheek. Xander turned his head for a kiss, but the lips withdrew, and the wicked eyes were looking at him again.  
  
“What …..what are you doing?”  
  
“Nothing, love. Not until you _ask_.”  
  
Xander groaned and pulled at the handcuffs, looking up at his helpless hands.  
  
“No pointing, no gesturing, and no guessing. I want to watch your mouth form around those dirty words.”  
  
“Does it make you hard?” Xander asked breathlessly, remembering a fantasy he had thought was his own.  
  
“It makes me _crazy_.”  
  
Xander closed his eyes and pulled at his bonds. His hands were unavailable to make requests now, and his words would certainly fail him. He was wishing for the darkness again, and was wondering how ask for THAT, when something occurred to him.  
  
His eyes flew open when he realized the obvious – of course! A myriad of requests could be made with the shortest word.  
  
“Fuck me,” he said forcefully, suddenly, looking into the cold blue eyes.  
  
But Spike just grinned. “There’s hundreds of ways to do _that_ love, which one did you have in mind?”  
  
“I have to chose just one?” Xander whimpered.  
  
“One at a time.”  
  
With a moan Xander tried to bring Spike closer to him by bringing up his knees again, moving his head forward to touch Spike’s face. There, cheek to cheek, he picked the easiest of the requests.  
  
“I want to come in your mouth again.” he lied, and instantly Spike was turned around, his boxer-clad ass sticking up into Xander’s face, his face buried between two willingly open thighs.  
  
Perhaps Spike had enjoyed his pet’s hesitant kisses and exploratory licking and false-starts that were necessary in his slow approach to _actually_ taking his lover completely into his mouth. Enjoyment or none, _Spike_ simply wasn’t one for wading into the water, he simply dove in, and any addendums Xander had intended to add, any “wait, there’s something I want more” s he wanted to throw in when he wasn’t looking the Vampire in the face, well, they were far away thoughts, now, driven right out of his mind by the maddening suction that was surrounding him, working him, sucking him, CLAIMING him in ways he hadn’t known were possible. Forming coherent thoughts now, let alone SAYING them out loud, was currently impossible, and Xander had to content himself with clutching the ornate headboard to which he was bound, and looking down at the beautiful alabaster body sitting ass-first in front of him. And moaning.  
  
It wasn’t an unpleasant task.  
  
  
“Oh……JESUS CH…. sorry! Sorry! I meant to say fuck……oh JESUS did I ever mean to say fuck…”  
  
Feeling your lover laugh in his low, luscious way, _especially_ when he had a mouthful of you, was an experience he would never forget, Xander was sure. Saying good-bye to the request he MEANT to make, he lay back his head against his bound hands and prepared to come inside Spike’s excellent and skillful mouth. His plans changed, however, when strong, insistent fingers began gently wandering, no, **purposefully** moving below his ball sack, stroking, caressing, exploring. And now, oh yes, and now….  
  
Spike removed Xander from his mouth to wet his fingertips with his tongue. He shot the bound man a wicked smile, then devoured his cock whole again. But now Xander’s mind only knew that slow, cool hands were spreading his ass cheeks and one gentle, moistened finger was pushing it’s way inside him.  
  
Spike said he wanted *words* from the boy, but words, as his Vampire once told him, require air, and at the moment Xander had none. Instead he bucked his hips up, pushing himself towards his lover’s hand urgently, finally finding the presence of mind to moan. His wordless enthusiasm enthused the Vampire who went to sucking him off with a will, hands kneading the muscles in his ass while pushing into the most intimate place of him, deeper, deeper.  
  
“Yes, yes,” Xander managed, but when he felt a rushing sensation coming upon him he made a quick decision. “Stop, not both, not both……no, don’t stop THAT…” he cried when the fingers disappeared. Spike’s face came up again, confused.  
  
“ _Now or never, donut boy_ ,” Xander thought, and, breathlessly, he managed to explain, “I don’t want to come yet, but I want you…..I want you to keep touching me there.” Here he closed his eyes because Spike was _looking_ at him again. He held on for dear life as the fingers worked magic in impossible places, but he didn’t dare look again (didn’t he ASK for the candles?) knowing he would only see those _eyes_ that were now boring into him. His knew his lover was devouring his face now, watching every tiny expression that crossed his face as knowing, loving fingers undid him.  
  
But something had changed – now he felt Spike’s mouth biting his inner thighs again. Both hands were molding and working his ass and now it was Spike’s _mouth_ , Spike’s _tongue_ that was actually _entering_ him and Xander wondered if it were possible to die of sensory overload.  
  
His dry lips were moving, and something resembling words were coming out, and his lover left his legs to look up. “Yes, love?”  
  
“MORE.”  
  
That wicked smile. Fingers inserted into the smile to wet them……them? Yes, two, now three, in and out, in and out, going in no deeper than that incredible tongue had gone, but playing with him, spreading him wider. Xander held the Vampire’s gaze now, watched him intensely as he looked back and forth between his fingers and the results as the played across Xander’s face. “Don’t stop.”  
  
“Don’t stop what, pet?”  
  
“Don’t stop fucking me with those beautiful fingers.” His lover grinned at his daring and rewarded him by caressing his face. One hand on the face, the other hand inside his body, eyes watching the boy _writhe_. “More?”  
  
“Please,”  
  
Both hands were removed and Xander’s eyes flew open in time to see the tall glass jar, the one with the obscene lid, brought to the bed. The hand that held the lid was now dipping fingers into the jar (have you ever noticed how *long* those fingers are?) and now slick, smooth digits were being pressed farther into him than he thought possible, long and sweet and slow. And at all times the eyes were on his face.  
  
“Like this, love?”  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“And now, what do you want?”  
  
But Xander was beyond speech, because Spike had touched *something* inside him, something that had set every inch of his skin on fire and moved through him like the feedings never had, and he clenched his fists and he gasped for air, and in the moment before he completely gave up his mind he whispered, “Now swallow me when I come.”  
  
The pained groan that emerged from his Vampire was worth every effort as Spike fell on his engorged cock and _pulled him_ with his vigorous suction, greedily consuming every drop as Xander came endlessly, shouting words that must have been heard above ground, throughout the cemetery, confusing the random prowling demon. Then Spike’s mouth was on his, kissing and biting as he lay helplessly, insensate.  
  
Not for long – Spike had shed the rest of his clothing and was climbing on top of him, furiously jacking off and aiming for Xander’s chest, his long body bending so that their mouths were still glued together, and given the groans vibrating against his lips Xander brought himself back to reality before the moment was gone. Wrenching his face away with some difficulty.  
  
His lover wanted words? Here were words.  
  
“Fuck me.”  
  
“You want me to fuck you like I did last night?” the Vampire was gasping, sitting up and pulling Xander’s legs apart.  
  
“NO! I want you to _fuck_ me, don’t take care of me, don’t go easy on me and don’t come on me, for God’s sake I want you to stop acting like we’ve got the rest of our lives to do this, I want you to _fuck_ me, for real, I want you to fuck me into the _fucking_ floor and if you’re NOT going to do me then take THESE off, because there’s no POINT, is there?”  
  
He was shouting. His wrists were on fire; he had gestured with his bound hands so violently he had hurt himself, and he was looking into a dangerous, silent face and wondering if he should be afraid.  
  
" _Hello? Vampire?_ " one lone logical part of his brain was saying (the one part of his brain that had NEVER agreed to this) when the Vampire moved with preternatural speed – one moment sitting on top of him, mouth hanging open, the next moment lip to lip with him, jaw caught in an iron grip. “Might hurt, love” the deadly voice was saying into his mouth. “Might cause you pain, which might put a dampener on the evening. Might give a body a blinding headache.” “Distract me, then,” Xander whispered back, trying to look down at the fingers holding his chin.  
  
Four slim (and long!) fingers appeared before his eyes, and then a thumb ran across the fingertips. How his lover cut his own skin without a blade Xander never knew, and knew he would never ask. Instead he took the bleeding fingertips into his mouth two at a time, drinking more willingly than he ever had before, needing the feel the rush of power that might dull any pain that would distract his lover. Two fingers were retracted and replaced with two more, as Xander heard the rushing sound filling up his ears and strength coursed through his body, the only thoughts banging through his head: _let this happen, let this happen, please God let this happen._  
  
Now the hands were gone and the alabaster box, the one with the wrought iron lid, was being brought out, being opened, and when it was opened he caught wild scent of spices and roses (of course, that could have just been the roses.) A graceful finger dipped into the liquid within. “Hang on, love,” his Vampire said, and with no other warning the finger was inserted completely into the center of him, sliding in smoothly and causing him to cry out. He was immediately filled with fire and ice and his whole body seemed to tingle as the ointment anointed him, one finger, now two, now three, his whole narrow passage prickling, then relaxing, almost going numb. Three fingers, now four, now his head was spinning, and all the time the two eyes on his face, waiting, watching.  
  
“What *is* that?” Xander asked, although further conversation seemed irrelevant. Spike smiled. “Special concoction, been around for a while. Grape seed oil, organsbroth, pansies, and a perfectly useful, mundane substance which is currently illegal, which gave me a devil of a time making it.” “You _made_ it?” A wry smile. “Just for you, pet. I’ve been thinking about this for some time.”  
  
Suddenly the fingers were gone and Spike was setting aside the little box and using the oil from the bottle to generously grease up his own substantial cock, at least, that’s what Xander saw him doing before the world went dark.  
  
“Open your eyes, love.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Please, for me.” When he did Spike’s face was lying next to his, cold lips speaking into his ear. “ _Anything_ for you, love. Anything. All you ever had to do was ask.”  
  
And then he was inside.  
  
One swift, merciless motion and his lover was buried up to the hilt, taking him and possessing him in ways that he had never dreamed of, all care and concern vanished, dominating and demanding, driven. Xander was lost in the onslaught (but wasn’t this what he had himself demanded?) and all he knew was motion and sensation and sound. And if he heard the growling and the snarl of “You’re MINE, Harris!” he did not respond. He only pulled and pulled and pulled at the handcuffs, desperately and heedless of the bruises, aching to put his hands on Spike as he watched the face above him grimace, teeth grinding, and now the face _flexing_ as Vampiric ridges flashed in and out of existence until the man threw his head back, mouth open, as if in agony.  
  
“I want to watch, I want to watch you come,” Xander thought (or spoke, he couldn’t’ tell.) But at the last moment Spike’s hand shot out to send the single candle to the floor, plunging them into darkness as the Vampire came with a roar above him, filling him, filling him with his cold and burning seed.


	2. Answer:  Talk About Death

A wet face was kissing his face, kissing his wet eyes, making his eyes wetter, cheeks wetter. Someone was panting and struggling for air, only one someone. In time Xander realized that someone was him.  
  
He moved towards his lover to ask a question ( _was someone crying just now?_ ) then cried out in pain. His lover hissed and lept from the bed, lighting candles. Then, straddling him, he produced a key and removed the handcuffs with supernatural speed. “Oww,” Xander complained, putting a hand to a pulled muscle in his arm, and cool, strong hands began to kneed and sooth it. Xander appreciated the cool hands with a silent smile.  
  
The crypt was completely silent, the only noise was his breathing now. He opened his eyes to check – yes, Spike was still there, his face serious, his hands on Xander’s sore arm. Then he took Xander’s wrists in his own hands, face showing obvious concern. Wetting a few fingers from the alabaster box, the silent man began to tenderly massage the liquid into the swollen skin on Xander’s wrists. The tingling, both cool and heated at the same time, instantly distracting him from the damage he had done to himself, and making him a little dizzy.  
  
“I really _don’t_ want to know what that is, do I?”  
  
It was the first words spoken in the echoing crypt. Spike only raised an eyebrow, but was silent.  
  
When he was done with his ministrations Spike pulled him into an embrace. They lay together, forehead to forehead in the dark room. Xander’s face had been wet – tears had actually squeezed out of his eyes during his violent orgasm, plus the lingering wetness of Spike’s kisses. He dried the wetness left on one cheek with his hand, and Spike did the same to the other cheek. Then, curious, Xander reached out to Spike’s face (hadn’t that face been wet as well?) but Spike pulled away from the touch.  
  
“When are you going to let me watch you come?” Xander whispered petulantly, pouting, but Spike still did not speak, nor moved forward to catch his pouty lip in a kiss, no matter how far Xander poked it out. “I guess next time I’ll have to _ask_ ,” he teased, trying to get something out of his lover other than that silent stare, but failing. Xander held his gaze in the stillness, forehead to forehead, Spike’s fingers caressing his face, Xander’s hand stroking the pale chest, until at last his eyelids became heavy and he began to doze. He started awake once, opening his eyes to see the look on his Vampire’s face hadn’t changed, eyes still watching him, solemn, longing. “What are you looking at?” he whispered but got no response. Spike stroked his eyelids closed and he left them closed for a few moments. Spike shifted position, and when Xander fought them open again he saw Spike’s head propped up on one hand, again studying his face intensely. He returned the gaze wordlessly, until finally, stroking Xander’s lips with his fingertips, his lover spoke.  
  
“I’m going to miss him,” he murmured in the quiet tomb.  
  
Xander looked at him in honest confusion. “Miss who?”  
  
“My virgin,” replied the low voice, moving in for a kiss, a kiss disrupted when Xander smiled.  
  
“I won’t. I won’t miss _him_ at all.”  
  
Some time later he awoke, alone, shivering. He looked for Spike and, failing to find him, looked for his clothes. He managed to get his shirt buttoned despite trembling fingers when Spike, still nude, came back down the ladder, carrying another blanket. “There you are. I was afraid you went searching for another virgin,” he joked through chattering teeth. “I’ve got all that I can handle right here,” Spike grinned and spread the heavy blanket over the heavily covered bed, then stopped, thought for a minute, and lifted the first blanket up to sweep the rose petals away. Xander took the moment to run off into the cold to use the facilities.  
  
“The facilities” meaning a spot in the tunnel where Spike had told him he could take a piss on the wall, just far enough away from the crypt not to smell but not so far as to be out of the reach of the candlelight.  
  
On the way to and from his spot Xander noticed he was in pain.  
  
The pain was nagging and in a strange place, almost enough to make him walk funny. Putting on his jeans for warmth made it even more noticeable, and when he bent over to pull on his socks he moaned a little.  
  
“All right, love?”  
  
“Yeah, I’m fine.”  
  
“Leaving?”  
  
“No, just freezing.” Now clothed he climbed under the covers and into the arms of his lover who made a noise of approval and pulled him close, then looked concerned when Xander winced and adjusted the seat of his pants.  
  
“What?” Spike asked, sitting up a little.  
  
“Nothing,” Xander said again, unable to explain. It wasn’t a sharp pain, just an irritation in an unexpected region.  
  
Spike reached for Xander’s denim-clad bottom and caressed. “Does it hurt?”  
  
“Kind of, it kind of burns…..” Xander admitted, a little bewildered.  
  
Spike stopped massaging his ass and took Xander’s hand in his. He put it on his own head, on the back of his scull, and held it there. Xander looked on, confused.  
  
“Nothing,” Spike said finally, shaking his head. “The chip doesn’t seem to mind. ‘Hoped so. Since it didn’t hurt you when it happened the chip didn’t activate – if it hurts now, the chip won’t care.  
  
“Makes sense,” he mused while kissing Xander’s hand. “When I punched that new witch in the noggin it hurt like hell, but if it bruised or got swollen up later, it didn’t hurt me. Good,” here he kissed Xander on the head. “That means it worked.”  
  
Xander looked at him, baffled. Spike grinned, mistaking Xander’s confusion. “I told you, pet, I’ve been thinking this through.”  
  
“So, it didn’t hurt when you DID it because….”  
  
“……of the Lover-come-Lately. And no, I can’t give you any more tonight. You absorb it through your skin, and you’ve had too much all ready. Too much‘s not good for you.  
  
“I _could_ have been gentle,” he said, pulling Xander closer and massaging his jeans-clad ass again. “I could have showed you _all kinds_ of things. But you wouldn’t have it. I believe your exact words were…….’Fuck me into the bloody floor?’ “ he grinned. “What?” he asked, stroking Xander’s confused face.  
  
“Is it supposed to hurt this much?”  
  
Spike chuckled as if joining in on a joke. When Xander didn’t join in he looked baffled, and propped up on one elbow, studying the boy’s face.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I mean, when ………..when men ……….make love,” (and now the stuttering, ignorant child was back. Dear god, Xander, ‘make love?’ Seriously??) “I mean, when men have sex, is it………I mean does it always hurt like this?”  
  
“It can hurt a great deal, pet,” Spike said seriously, studying his face. “Much worse than _that_ if a bloke doesn’t treat you right,” (here he started to stroke Xander’s hair) “that’s why you have to be careful what kind of bloke to be with. Only pick a fellow who knows what he’s doin’.”  
  
Xander began to blush, his eyes screwing up in embarrassment. Spike seemed to pull Xander into his embrace for his own reasons, and if he felt the burning face of the boy hiding in his chest under his chin he didn’t comment. Instead he was holding Xander close and stroking his back, perhaps talking to himself as much as he was to Xander. “Spike’ll show you things. Spike’ll show you _lots_ of nice things. Not tomorrow night, though, the next night. Spike’ll make you feel _good_.”  
  
But it was too much. Making an ass out of himself (well, making a FOOL out of himself) bled any desire he had to stay longer, so he disentangled himself from Spike’s ministrations and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to put on his shoes.  
  
“ ’s wrong, pet?” Spike asked cautiously.  
  
“I have to go soon, anyway, might as well leave now before I say anything _else_ stupid.”  
  
“You worry too much.” Then, after a moment, Spike spoke in a low voice, that ‘come-hither’ voice, and Xander didn’t dare turn around or he would certainly be coming-hither in an instant. “I thought you _liked_ , me bein’ your teacher. I know I like you bein’ my student.” Xander might have replied in the affirmative, but tying his shoes was quickly proving to be impossible, and he flung the wayward footwear to the floor in disgust.  
  
“ _What_? Xander……” Spike flopped back into the bed in frustration. “I thought you knew it would hurt….isn’t that what you were afraid of? Isn’t that why it was so hard to ask?”  
  
“No,” Xander said, his face burning. “I was afraid my ignorance would be obvious and I would embarrass myself, which I just did.” He stood up to retrieve his first shoe and locate the mate. He sat on the bed again, all without looking at Spike. He was suddenly in a terrible mood and didn’t want to be comforted. But he couldn’t put his shoes on now -- he had to leave soon, but he didn’t want to leave like this.  
  
Then Spike spoke again.  
  
“So, are we finished now? Now you’ve checked everything off your list?”  
  
Xander turned at looked at him in surprise. His Vampire was laying on his back, one hand under his head, glaring at the ceiling, a pose Xander knew well. “What list?” he started to say, but what was the point? There were times Spike could see straight into his head, and now Xander hung his head in shame.  
  
But Spike had heard the question, and answered. “Your bucket list,” he said calmly. “The list of things you want to do before you die? Are we done yet? Are you ready to die now?”  
  
“I don’t want to die,” Xander tried to say. He tried, he did. His mouth opened, and his tongue was moving, but nothing was coming out. Spike made an irritated noise, and Xander wanted to explain that too…. how Spike had always said their time was short because the rain would come, how the list wasn’t so much of a Bucket List as a hurry-up-and-don’t-miss-your-chance crap-the-world-is-ending list, and was Spike even mad? But speaking, someone once said, requires breathing, and breathing would have to wait until……until……  
  
When Xander was in third grade he had felt just like this, leaning over his desk after the Valentine Party and praying to whatever god the only way he knew how, by begging _“Please don’t let this happen please don’t let this happen please don’t let this happen.”_ But it did. Xander barfed and everybody laughed at him, and Mrs. Shaw was disgusted and sent him in disgrace to the nurses office (where the nurse Miss Reynolds took charge of him, stroked his head, showed unconditional sympathy and gave him a cold drink, making him forever a sucker for Strong Blonde Women.)  
  
He was there, now, sitting on Spike’s bed in Spike’s crypt, leaning over and looking at the floor, praying. _“Please don’t let this happen please don’t let this happen please don’t let this happen.”_ But it happened.  
  
Xander was crying.  
  
Wiping away tears quickly, it turns out, doesn’t make them stop coming, and holding your breath doesn’t make it stop hitching, and refusing to speak doesn’t make your throat less constricted, tensing your shoulders doesn’t make them stop shaking, and gritting your teeth, well, it just makes your jaw hurt. Spike was up and standing in front of him in an instant, stroking his head and apologizing and insisting he was a bad, rude man and begging Pet not to take on so. And Xander was laying his head back into strong hands and looking upwards (possibly at the god who never answered little boy’s prayers) and grimacing at the impossibility of his own tears, and yet they still came. Soon he was sobbing without restraint, tears streaming down his face and patiently allowing Spike to frantically kiss up each one.  
  
This went on for a few minutes when a funny thought occurred to Xander, and he laughed freely. “Are you _tasting_ me?”  
  
“Oh no, love, I just can’t stand to see……I mean it breaks my heart to……ok yes I’m tasting them. You’re salty and delicious” Spike went back to kissing, even licking his tears up with a will, explaining (between kisses) ….. “Everything about you tastes alive and amazing; your tears,” (kiss) “your come” (kiss) “the inside of your mouth” (kiss) “and you’re lucky it’s so damn cold in here, because if you sweat in my bed I would be licking you from head to toe all night.”  
  
“Oh, that sounds nice” Xander laughed helplessly, allowing Spike to push him back into his original position in the bed and embrace him. Spike’s hands were amazing, so generous and communicative. Now they were rubbing and massaging his back and shoulders, now his lower back, now his sides, now back to his shoulders, wanting nothing, only giving. He said nothing, encouraging him silently, letting him cry. And Xander clung to him and wept as if it were the most natural thing in the world.  
  
Finally, he was done, and when he was done he pulled away from Spike, laying on his back and covering his face with his hands. Spike lay beside him, head propped up on one hand as before, watching him, waiting. When a stray tear fell Spike caught it with the pad of his thumb. “What’s this, then?” he asked quietly, (perhaps unaware he was putting his thumb in mouth.)  
  
“God, it’s so damn stupid.” Xander moaned, trying to hide under his arms, but his face was uncomfortably hot, so he took Spike’s hand instead and lay it across his burning eyes.  
  
“Try me,” his lover said patiently. The cool hand patiently covered his overheated skin, and Xander hid beneath it and whispered his confession.  
  
“I don’t want to die, Spike,” was the shameful secret. Were it not for Vampiric hearing he would have had to repeat it.  
  
“It’s not your job to _want_ to die, pet. It’s your job to want to live.”  
  
“It’s not that, I was never afraid to die for Buffy before. Fuck, the day the Mayor was going to turn into a great big harry demon at graduation I went with a crossbow under my gown and a smile in my heart. Hell, I always figured I’d die fighting for her. I only saw in it my head a thousand times, how I’d go out in a blaze of glory and die real gruesome and heroic, and she’d cry and say nice things about me and be sad she never even dated me once…..”  
  
Spike grinned knowingly.  
  
“I don’t know what happened,” Xander started to say, and then the hateful tears started again.  
  
“Well, you’re all grown now,” Spike was saying. “Not a lad anymore. You have a home and a lady-love and….”  
  
“No, it’s not her, it’s not Anya. It’s…..it’s Joyce.”  
  
Xander shivered. He hadn’t known it until he had said it out loud, but now that it was said, he knew it was true. He looked out from under the cool hand, looked at Spike to see if he understood.  
  
Spike was only waiting, and when Xander said nothing else, he said the obvious. “Joyce is dead, pet.”  
  
“Exactly!” Xander said, pointed a finger at him, pleased. He hid back underneath Spike’s long fingers, pressing it to his fevered skin. Spike shifted and placed _both_ hands over his eyes and face, which Xander covered with his own, and, from the safety of this fortress of fingers he continued speaking.  
  
“Joyce _left_ me and she never came back. And it wasn’t because she stopped fighting or got scared and tried to run or met some bad guy that she hadn’t researched properly. She just _left_ and there was no one to get revenge on, no one to fight afterwards. And the look on Buffy’s face, and Willow’s, and _god_ Dawnie…..”  
  
Spike nodded solemnly. “Right there with you, pet. I saw it too. T‘isn’t right. T’isn’t right your ladies should suffer and you can’t defend them.”  
  
“And if I’m dead, I can’t, that’s what’s getting me. I’m not afraid of dying, I just don’t want to be DEAD. I’ve having nightmares about Willow’s face, and Dawnie’s, I can’t even *think* about Anya. And I’m _scared_ …..” Here the hateful tears began to form again. “I’ve never been this _scared_ before.”  
  
Spike considered this. He caught tears on his thumb and tasted it absently, then he lay down himself. In time, perhaps without meaning to, he assumed the “I don’t want to talk” position, flat on his back, one hand behind his head, studiously studying the ceiling, deep in thought. Xander noticed and copied him. He knew that they, sometimes, communicated very well this way, and if not they could lay in companionable silence until he had to leave. It would be pleasant, even, if it weren’t for this dull ache in his chest, in his body, in his brain.  
  
“Let’s not, then.” Spike said suddenly.  
  
Xander looked at him in surprise. Not what? Not join the fight? Not take the risk?  
  
Spike turned his head and looked at him frankly.  
  
“Let’s not die. You and me. Let’s _not_ snuff it.”  
  
“And still fight for Dawn and Buffy?”  
  
“Oh, yes, of course, fight for Dawn. Let’s _save_ Dawn. Let’s save Dawn, AND Buffy, AND all the other women. Let’s put this Glory-bitch into the dirt. Let’s fuck her into the bloody ground.”  
  
“Not in the good way….”  
  
“No! No, not in the good way. Let’s clean her clock. Let’s be the big heroes, save the world, get all the glory, and _not die_.  
  
“You ‘n me, pet. Let’s stop being the side characters in the _Buffy_ Show. Let’s be the dashing and daring heroes in the _Spike and Xander_ show.”  
  
Xander couldn’t stop the grin spreading all across his face. When Spike said it, it sounded possible. Hell, maybe it WAS possible?  
  
“Well, maybe the _Xander and Spike_ show.” Xander grinned, pulling the hard alabaster body into his arms and kissing the sharp angles of shoulders and collarbones.  
  
“Nah, that’be silly.”  
  
“Maybe, the _Amazing Adventures of Xander and his Vampire Sidekick_ ….”  
  
“Now **that** would just be stupid.”  
  
“And we’ll never die, because we’d be the heroes, and... you can’t die if the show is _named_ after you.”  
  
“Yeah……unless the show get’s canceled.”  
  
Xander just continued to grin. “They’ll never cancel our show, Spike! We’re just too damn awesome.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sadly, sometimes the good shows DO get canceled.
> 
> But THIS show is not over. The next book is called The Beginning Of The End. Be sure to subscribe so you do not miss a heartbeat.

**Author's Note:**

> You can't leave ANOTHER kudo, so why not leave a quote?
> 
> Quotes are easy... just cut-and-paste your favorite line.
> 
> \-------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Constructive Crit is not for Ao3 - unless the author ASKS FOR IT.
> 
> This is me asking.


End file.
